Burnt Bridges
by obligatory-regal-name
Summary: Swan Queen Secret Santa gift for @grrlinthefireplace. What happens when Emma has to rebuild the bridges she's burnt? Eventual SQ. Mostly canon up until the last 10 minutes of 5x11, only major difference being Zelena was never Marian, and therefore Robin never came back from NY. Set after Hook's death.


The fog which surrounded her mind these days was all-consuming. There were moments where she was completely cognizant of reality, but most of the time, she was stuck reliving the six weeks of her life she was the Dark One. She remembered her last six weeks with Hook. The moments he'd died: the first where she'd saved him, and the second where she'd killed him. Every time she passed out from exhaustion despite her best efforts to stay awake, she relived the horrors she'd tried her best to forget. She remembered in every way possible how she threw away everything for a man who didn't really love her; a man who used her son as a prop, and treated her as if she were just his plaything, as a lesser lifeform for the mere fact she was a woman. A man who claimed he'd changed for the better, but the moment he was given the slightest moral leeway had shown her exactly how little he had. What haunted her the most was how poorly she'd treated the people who mattered to her the most.

For 28 years, Emma had searched for her family. Her parents and her son had been the most important people in her life, and somehow, Hook had convinced her that the only person who really mattered was him. Instead of talking to her mother, she'd spent time with him. Rather than have her father help her to resist the darkness, she'd sought out Hook. Instead of letting her son know she loved him, even if she was having a hard time loving _anyone_ , she let Hook know that her love for him was unending.

Emma hardly noticed when the front door opened and closed, she was so deep in her own thoughts. With her parents both at work, both knowing that she was in no state to take care of herself let alone a baby, they'd gotten into the habit of dropping off Neal with a babysitter whenever they were away. They'd given up hope of talking to her unassisted weeks prior. Every time they tried, she just sent them away, or lied her way out of having to actually share her feelings. Instead, she'd taken up residence on the couch in their living room, only moving when it was absolutely necessary. She'd been lying in the same exact spot, not even moving to feed herself or use the bathroom, for over 7 hours. She hadn't had to eat as the Dark One, and her appetite hadn't returned once the darkness had left.

Self-care was not something Emma had had the energy for that week, and the odor of the room made that apparent from the moment Regina walked into the loft. The garbage can next to the couch was overflowing with tissues, and dirty dishes had been left on the coffee table. There was a mug on the side table, and it had left several rings on the wooden surfaces. The lights were off despite the fact the sun had started to set, and it was obvious that the blonde woman was not going to get up to turn them on herself any time soon.

"Emma?" Regina tentatively called out for her as she saw the lumpy woman-shaped blanket blob stir slightly on the couch. When there was no response, she sighed and turned on the lights before she started to gather the filth which had gathered around the blonde's dwelling. It had been nearly a month since the darkness had been vanquished, and Emma had managed to shut out nearly everyone in her life. Whenever anyone tried to get anywhere close to her, she would snap at them, or insist she was fine. Anyone aside from Regina, that is. For some reason, Emma had felt she could trust the older woman enough to not have to fake her mental health. "When's the last time you left the couch?"

"Not that long ago. An hour?" Emma was a piss-poor liar with Regina, and the waver in her voice gave her away immediately.

"What time was it an hour ago?" Regina had just started to gather the dirty dishes to bring to the sink when Emma grunted and sat up slightly.

"I don't know, 3?" The blonde blushed when she saw what Regina was doing for her. "And, you really don't have to do this. You don't have to care for me. I'm not Henry. I don't understand why you care."

"It's nearly 5, Emma," Regina responded pointedly. Ignoring her comments, she started to gather the remaining dishes. "Have you consumed anything other than coffee and some rice today?"

"I'm not hungry," the younger woman replied.

"I don't care. You're never hungry. You have to eat something more than carbohydrates." The mayor shot her a disapproving look as she walked to the sink with the stack of dishes. "And, when's the last time you showered?"

"Excuse me?" That comment at least managed to get the blonde to sit up fully and look her in the eyes.

"Emma… You look like hell. You haven't moved from that spot for more than 10 minutes at a time in over two weeks. Your parents are worried about you. Henry is, too." The look in Regina's eyes made it glaringly obvious the three of them were not the only ones concerned about the sheriff's mental state.

"If they cared, they'd be here themselves instead of sending you," Emma spat with more venom than she probably intended. "It's not like you actually care, and I'm living on their couch, for fuck's sake. How much effort is it to check in on me while they step around me in their own home?"

Regina recoiled slightly at the vitriolic words, obviously affected by them, but she stood her ground. "You really believe that?" The mayor tried to school her expression, but she didn't quite manage to do so.

"Which part?" Emma inquired. "The part where they don't give a shit, or the part where it would be easy for them to show that they did?"

"Any of it. Emma, you're pushing them away. Rather incessantly, actually. I'm the only person you'll talk to for more than a few grunts at a time, and even then, it's not like you're jumping at the opportunity. And they haven't been sending me." As she finished the sentence, she turned back to the sink and resumed washing the dishes she'd just collected. Nearly as an afterthought she mumbled, "At least, not for the past week and a half."

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why are you here?"

"Because Henry—"

"—Don't lie to me, Regina."

Regina put down the mug she'd been washing and turned around again. "What makes you think I'm lying?"

"The fact I always know when you're lying, perhaps?" The blonde woman turned in order to be able to look over the couch, and she tried to face her as they spoke.

"Why are you so sure of that?"

"Because all of the times I've ignored my gut, I've made the wrong decision. I know that's not why you're really here."

"Henry _is_ concerned."

"You just said no one is sending you."

"That doesn't change the fact that you've been in the same set of sweats for four days straight, nor that the only thing keeping you awake is black coffee."

"Does it matter?"

"Of course it matters."

" _Why?_ "

Regina turned back to the sink and started to wash a plate that was crusted with an unidentifiable substance she was _hoping_ was mac and cheese. "Perhaps it's important because we know you aren't ok, and..." She let her voice trail off, refocusing on the dishes. She squirted more soap onto the sponge and started to attack a spot of crusty cheese, taking out her frustration on the grime.

"And _what_?"The younger woman got off of the couch to approach the other woman, not wanting to have this conversation with the back of her head. "Why does it matter to you that I'm not ok?"

Regina turned around to face her before she spoke. She faltered before she answered, but she managed to spit out the words, "Because I care about you, too."

"Why?"

"The why shouldn't be important."

"But it is," she insisted. "Why should any of you care about me after what I did?"

"Because, Emma... Just because you hurt us doesn't mean we should stop caring about you. You're family," the older woman retorted. "And that means no matter _what_ you do to us, we won't give up on you. You should know that by now. It'll take a hell of a lot more than some snarky words and the silent treatment to get rid of us."

That remark made Emma frown and shake her head. "You're kidding me, right?"

"Do I look like I'm joking?" Regina's expression was completely serious, and she'd even put down the sponge. Her dark eyes were focused on Emma's own, despite the blonde's attempts to break the eye contact.

"I've done so much worse than just _ignore_ you guys, or hurt your feelings. I nearly got all of you killed with my selfish attempts at what I thought was happiness. Hell, what I did to Henry alone should be enough for you to never want to talk to me again."

"If after everything I've done your family can manage to forgive me, or at least pretend to, what makes you think that you're beyond forgiveness?"

"It's different."

"How is it any different?"

"I'm not you, Regina. And I never will be. People hold me to a different standard."

Regina swallowed roughly and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. She managed to school her expression, but not before Emma saw the effect the words had on her. "That's true, but the people who really matter aren't holding you to some ungodly standard you could never achieve. Perhaps if you allowed yourself to see that, you would be able to start letting yourself heal. We just want to help you, Emma. Whatever form that help might take. You never gave up on me when I needed a... friend, and I don't plan on giving up on you now. But right now it's obvious you aren't going to be receptive to anyone trying to help you, so how about this. I'll keep coming back until you are, and you can let me know when you're ready to talk. Until then, do try and shower, Miss Swan. It smells like something's died in here."

Before Emma had the chance to respond, Regina was already gone.


End file.
